It began with the sheep.
One morning, three were found torn apart near the forest's edge—bodies shredded, not eaten, as if the killer had no hunger. By the next week, a fourth disappeared. Then two goats. A trail of prints led into the thickets.
"Too large for any fox," said the old shepherd grimly. "And too smart for a starving wolf."
The villagers began murmuring of curses. Of omens. Of the siblings who never wept. Of the girl who smiled too calmly at violence. Of the boy who dreamed of death and always seemed to know what came next.
By the third week, the livestock were locked in early and children forbidden to play past sunset. But still, something moved in the woods. Something with eyes like coals and breath like winter.
And one night—it took a child.
The village was awake before dawn.
A girl named Lella, just six years old, hadn't returned after feeding her grandmother's chickens. Blood and drag marks led to the tree line. No one dared follow.
Except Finn.
"I know where she is," he said. "I saw it."
Charlotte didn't question him.
She only packed the knife, a rope, and the slingshot they'd stolen two months ago from Garron's barn.
They slipped into the forest without permission, without prayer. Just the two of them—one dreaming, one remembering what it meant to lead.
They found her in a hollow beneath a dead tree, barely breathing, too afraid to cry. Her ankle was twisted. Her dress torn.
And watching her, crouched in the brambles—was the wolf.
It was larger than Charlotte expected. Not monstrous, not fanged with magic. But real. Wounded. And desperate.
Its ribs showed. Its left ear had been torn away. And in its eyes, Charlotte didn't see a beast—
She saw something cornered.
Still, it growled. Stepped forward.
Charlotte stepped in front of Finn.
She didn't run.
Instead, she did the strangest thing.
She began to speak.
"I know what it's like," she whispered. "To be hunted for what you are. To want to bite back."
The wolf tilted its head.
Behind her, Finn slowly drew Lella closer.
The wolf's ears twitched.
Charlotte held its gaze, steady and calm, even as her hand tightened on the knife she prayed she wouldn't need.
Then—
The wolf turned.
Vanished into the dark.
They carried Lella back at dawn.
The villagers fell silent when they saw them. No one asked how they'd survived. No one dared.
Some said the wolf vanished after that day.
Others said it began following Charlotte.
Watching her from the edge of the woods. Protecting her.
That week, no one mocked her anymore. Not even Garron.
And when the mayor came knocking—muttering about rumors of "a girl with two souls"—Charlotte simply smiled.
"Rumors are just dreams," she said. "Only dangerous when people believe in them."
But the truth was—
She had started to believe in one, too.
That maybe her brother was Eladin.
And if that was true… then what had brought them back together?
And what was still waiting for them ahead?